


Faithful in Love, Dauntless in War

by thewulf (Aloha4Ever)



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Captain Swan - Freeform, F/M, Lieutenant Duckling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-16
Updated: 2016-01-16
Packaged: 2018-05-14 06:41:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5733343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aloha4Ever/pseuds/thewulf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A medieval Captain Swan AU based on the poem Lochinvar by Sir Walter Scott. Sort of Lieutenant Duckling.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Faithful in Love, Dauntless in War

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Alexandra Lyman for being an amazing beta.

The halls of the Duke’s summer castle are decked out in glorious splendor. The castle is festooned with fresh flowers and rich brocade draperies of every color. Candles brighten the rooms and chase shadows away from hidden nooks and crannies. Tantalizing aromas of large joints of meat and quail roasting on spits mingle with the smell of fresh baked sweetmeats and mead. The guest chambers are prepared and quilts laid out in preparation for the arrival of select high-ranking noblemen and close connections of the family. For on the morrow, the daughter of the Duke and Duchess of Misthaven, Lady Emma Davina Swan Nolan, is to plight her troth in marriage to Lord Walsh Silvanus Simus Oz, the son and heir of the Earl of Glowerhaven. And in a week, they are to marry.

In her chambers Lady Emma sits dressed only in her chemise. She has sent away her ladies-in-waiting and personal maids, much to their chagrin. A beautiful off-white brocade dress with intricate silver thread work lies on the bed by her side, but Emma makes no attempt to put in on. She has no desire to prepare for the festivities arranged to welcome the wedding guests. Wishing to strengthen his alliance with the Earl of Glowerhaven, a powerful peer of the realm, the Duke of Misthaven has arranged her marriage with the Earl’s only son. Lord Walsh seems pleasant enough, but Emma’s heart belongs to another.

About a year ago, when Emma was travelling with her companions to visit some relations, their carriage was accosted by bandits. Emma had escaped after incapacitating two of them. As she was trying to find her way back to safety and get help to rescue her travelling companions, she came across a young and valiant knight, Killian Jones, who had recently broken with his liege-lord following the death of his brother. The knight pledged to escort Emma safely back home. Emma had insisted on going back to rescue the carriage driver and her companions. The two young people fell in love along the way.

Upon Emma’s return to the Castle, Killian declined the reward the Duke offered. Instead, he sought permission to court the daughter of the house. The Duke refused, stating that a wandering knight was no suitable match for a Duke’s daughter. Killian left, vowing to prove his worth. “ _Wait for me, Swan_ ,” he whispered in her ear before leaving (he is the only one to ever call her _Swan_ ). Emma begged him to take her with him right then, telling him that she loved him as he was. “ _I will come back for you, my love. I give you my word_ ,” he insisted. Emma did not wish to importune him further in the matter, seeing that he was so set on his goal. And so Killian had left on a quest of honor. Emma had been left behind, waiting and hoping. They corresponded (in secret, of course) fairly frequently, but Emma has not heard from Killian in the last three months. A worry that some evil has befallen him gnaws at Emma constantly, even as she tries to remain hopeful. Emma sent word to Killian immediately after her step-father had finalized the details of the marriage settlement and set the date for the wedding. But there was no way for her to know if the message would reach Killian in time.

Turning her attention to her current plight, Emma sits absentmindedly twisting ringlets of her hair with her fingers when she hears a knock on the door. The knock is repeated when she ignores it, followed by her mother’s voice asking to be let in. Bowing to the inevitable, Emma sighs and goes to open the door.

Snow White, Duchess of Misthaven, closes the door behind her upon entering her daughter’s bed chamber and takes a look around.

“To what do I owe the honor of your visit to my chambers, mother?” asks Emma.

The Duchess gives her daughter a look of mingled affection and exasperation that shows she is not taken in by the latter’s attempts at dissimulation.

“Lady Aurora tells me that you sent her and Lady Ruby away from your chambers,” she tells Emma.

Emma rolls her eyes at that. “I knew Aurora would betray me.”

“I asked Aurora what she was doing walking about in the garden instead of assisting you,” her mother responds with a smile. “She wouldn’t dare lie to me.”

“I was merely jesting, mother,” says Emma and sighs.

“Why are you not attired?” questions her mother. “It would be unseemly for you to be tardy in welcoming the wedding guests. Lord Walsh is eager to see you again.”

“But _I’m_ not eager to see _him_ ,” mutters Emma.

“Emma…”

“How can I, when my heart belongs to another?” cries Emma, looking straight at her mother. “His Grace may hope to control my destiny. But he cannot control my heart.”

Her mother tries to pacify her. “You father has your best interests in mind.”

“He is _not_ my father.” The words slip out before she can stop them. Emma feels contrite upon seeing the pained expression on her mother’s face.

“He stands in the place of your father,” declares the Duchess. “And thus merits your respectful compliance to his wishes.”

“What about love?” implores Emma, and looks at her mother beseechingly.

“Love is but a fleeting dream of youth. It is never as simple as marrying the one you love and living happily ever after,” says her mother.

“Mother, why did you marry my uncle after Father died?” asks Emma hesitantly.

Her mother is silent for a long moment before she speaks. “Your father was but the heir incumbent to the Misthaven Duchy when he died, and so, I did not merit a Dowager’s portion,” she explains. “The succession devolved to his younger brother, Lord James. If I had not accepted James’s offer of matrimony, you and I would have become mere dependants on the Duke’s charity,”

“We could have left, and made our lives elsewhere!” Emma argues.

“Where could we have gone, Emma? You were but ten. My parents were dead. I could not bear to have you lose the advantages of growing up as a daughter of the Castle and be confined to a life of hardship. Lord James gave me his word that he would treat you like his daughter, and continue your education as befits a noblewoman. And now, you have grown into a beautiful, clever, accomplished maiden that any lord of noble blood would be fortunate to have as queen of his castle.” The Duchess looks at her daughter with fond maternal pride.

“What good will my accomplishments do me if I am to be fettered once I enter my husband’s home?”

“You will learn to find contentment in your duties, and joy in your children, as I have done.”

“You may be content mother, but I am not like you. You let me fly as a bird in the open sky for so long, and now you ask me to willingly walk into a gilded cage.”

“Women cannot remain unshackled forever, Emma. That is our lot in life,” states Snow. “As noblewomen, we may perhaps take comfort that our cage _is_ gilded, after all.”

“Killian did not offer me a gilded cage,” demurs Emma, softly.

Her mother looks at her with pity and kindness. “Emma, you could hardly expect His Grace to consent to the suit of an itinerant knight.”

“One would have expected him to value chivalry,” observes Emma. Before assuming the title, her step-father had been a knight under the King’s command.

“As you well know, chivalry is not the only thing to consider in matrimonial decisions,” remarks her mother dryly.

“I only wanted His Grace to give me a little more time. Killian promised to come back for me,” says Emma.

“Your knight-errant has been gone for nigh close to a year, Emma. It is time you forgot him. You are 18 now, dear child. It will be very difficult to find a suitable match for you if we tarried any longer.” The Duchess kisses Emma’s forehead and adds with finality, “Now, you _must_ make haste and prepare. I will send your ladies to you presently.”

Emma sighs and falls back on her bed as her mother shuts the door behind her. It promises to be a long day.

¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤

The Duke and Duchess enter the ballroom, followed by Emma and her half brother, Leopold. Richly outfitted nobles and chattering aristocrats part as Emma and her family walk to the head of the room. The Duke gives a brief speech welcoming the assembled guests to the wedding celebration of Lady Emma and Lord Walsh. Lord Walsh steps forward and presents Emma with a large posy of orange blossoms. It is an ostentatious display of wealth, as these flowers can only be procured from mainland Europe at great expense. Emma curtsies and accepts the flowers, holding out her hand for him to kiss. The Duke raises a glass of mead and leads a toast to Lady Emma and Lord Walsh. A huge cheer erupts as everyone downs the sweet mead.

The music starts, and Walsh leads Emma to the head of the set for the first dance. Other couples line up after them, and a lively country dance begins. Emma’s head is in a whirl as she spins and claps in tune to the beat. The dance is too fast-paced for her to hold a conversation with her partner, but Lord Walsh seems to be enjoying himself. Emma is not.

Until now, her impending wedding has been but a nebulous event Emma vaguely hoped would be put off. But now, reality is slap in her face. Her heart sinks as she realizes that by this time tomorrow, she will be a betrothed woman. However, it is clear to Emma in her heart that there is no way she is going forward with it.

Soon, the festivities are in full swing. People crowd around side-tables laden with delicious viands. Ale and mead flow in abundance and boisterous laughs can occasionally be heard over the sounds of the musical quartet and dancing feet. After a few dances, Emma takes a seat by Lady Ruby in a corner of the room away from the crowd to rest her feet for a short while. The two friends sip mead while making not _quite_ proper jokes about the guests as they watch the circle dance in progress. There are at least two dozen people on the floor now; Lord Walsh is among the most determined.

“Your betrothed seems very… energetic.” Lady Ruby nudges Emma playfully with her elbow.

“He is not my betrothed yet.” Emma rolls her eyes.

“Just a few hours to go before he is,” teases Ruby.

“I suppose so,” huffs Emma.

“You suppose so?” Ruby laughs and turns to look at Emma. Her mirth turns to concern when Emma only gives her a half-hearted smile. “Milady, are you alright?”

“Of course,” says Emma and takes a sip of her drink so she can hide her face from Ruby. But Ruby knows Emma far too well for that tactic to work.

“You’re thinking of your dashing knight aren’t you?” Lady Ruby goes straight to the point.

“What if I am?” Emma gives Ruby a look of defiance.

Ruby observes her face narrowly for a moment. “What are you going to do about it?”

“What?” exclaims Emma. She has not expected _this_ reaction from her friend.

“What are you going to do about it?” repeats Ruby gently.

“What _can_ I do?” Emma evades the question, and takes another sip from her glass.

“You’re going to sit yearning for your knight while marrying another man?”

“I don’t yearn.”

Ruby scoffs. “So, you’re happy then? Marrying Lord Walsh?”

“It’s not as though how I feel matters. My step-father didn’t consult with me before arranging my marriage,” says Emma defensively.

“That’s right,” agrees Ruby. “Besides, you can’t wait forever for a lowly knight to return when an Earl’s son is ready to marry you. Isn’t that so?”

“I would _never_ …” begins Emma hotly, and turns to glare at Ruby.

Ruby is grinning, having got the reaction she wanted. “So, are you going to tell me the truth now?”

“Alright. I don’t want to marry Lord Walsh. Are you happy now?” bursts out Emma, and swipes at a few angry tears in her eyes.

Ruby lays a hand on her gently. “I’m sorry, Emma. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“I know,” says Emma, and stares at the floor.

“I think you should talk to the Duke. He is not a cruel man. He will not force you to marry against your will.”

“If he had cared one jot for my happiness, the Duke would have considered my wishes before finalizing the match,” objects Emma. “As it is, the Duke would be wary of offending the Earl of Glowerhaven by putting a stop to the wedding at this late hour.”

“So, you’re going to sacrifice your happiness and marry Lord Walsh.” Ruby gives her friend a skeptical look.

Emma is silent for a moment, and then a determined gleam comes into her eyes.

Ruby narrows her eyes. “What devilry are you planning, Emma?”

“If I slip away from the castle quietly tonight,” begins Emma slowly, “leaving a note that I left of my own free will, all blame will fall on me. My step-father will be absolved of any intended disrespect to the Earl.”

Ruby takes a sharp breath and whispers “But where will you go, milady?”

“I am going to find Killian…” declares Emma, with a steely resolve in her voice. “I’ve had enough of sitting around and waiting for him to come for me.”

“If we had more time to plan…” starts Ruby with no little alarm.

“There _is_ no more time,” interrupts Emma. “I do not wish to promise myself to one man and then run after another.”

The castle is well-guarded, but Emma and Ruby have explored every inch of the castle, and know of a few hidden passageways that lead outside.

“Let me come with you, then,” begs Ruby.

Emma is touched. Ruby is betrothed to a castle guard. Running away with Emma would be throwing her entire future into jeopardy. “No, Ruby. I cannot let you do that. I will be fine on my own,” she asserts.

“You came back to rescue me last year. I’m not going to let you do this alone,” avows Ruby, and squeezes Emma’s hand.

Emma smiles gratefully at her friend and gives her an answering squeeze.

The music changes to a softer cadence, signifying a switch to couples dances. Lord Walsh comes to claim her. Emma agrees politely: she can hardly refuse to stand up with the man. Ruby shoots her friend a sympathetic look as Emma lets the young lord lead her to the floor. The slower pace of this dance does absolutely nothing to sooth Emma’s troubled reflections. Partway through the set, a sudden commotion by the door distracts her. The crowd parts to reveal a young man of fine bearing, a broadsword hanging from his hip. Emma cranes her neck to try and glimpse his face through the throng. The man walks up to the Duke, removes his hat, and bows.

A hush falls over the room.

“Killian Jones, knight of the Round Table, at your service,” he announces.

Emma’s heart skips a beat.

The Duke looks at him with startled recognition. After a moment’s pause, he nods in acknowledgement, and addresses Killian: “An honored knight of the Round Table is always welcome in my castle, if he comes in peace.”

“I have come on an errand of peace, Your Grace. Nigh on a year ago, I sought your permission to court your daughter, which you refused. I have come yet again to seek your daughter’s hand in marriage, this time as a chosen knight of Camelot.”

A gasp ripples through the crowd. Emma’s heart clenches, and she lets go of Lord Walsh’s hand.

“An appointed knight of the Round Table may indeed be counted worthy of courting a Duke’s daughter, even if…” The Duke breaks off the sentence and glances down briefly at something on Killian’s hand. He adds with casual condescension, “However, Lady Emma is to be betrothed to the Earl of Glowerhaven’s son on the morrow. You are welcome to stay and partake in the bridal festivities.”

“It appears I have come too late. I thank you for the kindness, Your Grace, but I shall take my leave after I drink one cup of wine and tread one measure in dance with your charming daughter,” says Killian.

The Duke inclines his head in acknowledgement.

Killian adds with a smile, “After all, there is many a noble family in Camelot where the suit of an intrepid knight would not be unwelcome.”

The Duchess hands Killian a goblet of mead. He raises a toast to Lady Emma’s happiness and drinks just as the lady in question steps forward from amidst the crowd. The next instant, Killian’s gaze is upon Emma, and everything else fades away as the two lock eyes.

He looks handsomer than Emma remembers: darker and leaner. Light coppery stubble covers his chin. His striking blue eyes are trained on her with a searing intensity. A lock of dark hair falls over his forehead, lending him a roguish air. And then abruptly, Emma notices that in place of Killian’s left hand, there is instead a hook. A piercing pain presses against her chest at the sight, and a wave of anger surges through her when she realizes that the Duke had been obliquely alluding to that as a potential objection to Killian’s worth as a suitor. She feels overwhelmed with the mess of emotions washing over her, and almost stumbles.

The next instant, Killian is at her side and his arm steadies her. A jolt as though of lightning strike passes through Emma when they touch. Killian gently squeezes her arm and gives her a small reassuring smile. Emma feels calmer immediately. She takes a deep breath. Killian is alive. He’s here with her. They can face anything together.

She looks up at him with a tremulous smile on her lips and a tear in her eye.

He takes her soft hand in his and asks, “Will you do me the honor of dancing with me, milady?”

“Yes,” agrees Emma breathlessly.

Killian sets his broadsword on the floor and leads Emma to the center of the dance floor.

The musical quartet strikes up the tune for a galliard. Emma vaguely registers other couples lining up around them. She neither remembers nor cares about Lord Walsh. The galliard is in bracing contrast to the solemn processional dance that preceded it, and Emma revels in it. She leaps higher than the other dancers, steps with joyful vim, and smiles brighter than the sun.

A susurrus of murmurs travels through the assembly room: _so dashing_ … _a knight of Camelot…_ _so brave_ … _he has a_ hook _for a hand_ … _how delightfully they dance…_ _’twould be a superior match by far_ …

A few measures into the dance Killian murmurs, “Ready to get your heart racing, love?”

Emma looks at him suspiciously wondering what mischief he is planning. “In what manner?”

“Just trust me,” replies Killian with a wink.

Killian pulls Emma to himself and pivots her gently so she stands facing to his right, with her shoulder pressed close to his chest. Emma looks at Killian with a delighted giggle when she realizes he is positioning them for a Lavolta* turn. The smile he gives her in return is wicked. He takes hold of her by the stiff busk at the front of her gown, and places his other arm on the small of her back. Emma circles her arms around Killian’s shoulders, holds tight, and leaps. Killian hops, and uses his thigh to support Emma’s weight as he spins them. He sets her down gently on the last beat of the measure. They repeat the exhilarating steps of this intimate turn again and again. As they transition back to the kick, step, and jump of the galliard, Emma realizes that the other couples have stopped dancing, and all around them are people clapping and cheering them on.

Emma and Killian smile at each other and repeat the Lavolta turns. As they wind down for the second time, Emma notices her step-father making his way toward them with a deep frown on his face. Lord Walsh is standing silent by his father’s side, his mouth open in an expression of dumb consternation. The Earl looks livid.

It is time.

Killian takes Emma’s hand and asks with a slight quaver in his voice, “Come with me, Swan?”

Her eyes sparkling with joy, Emma says, “I thought you’d never ask!”

Emma turns locks her gaze with her mother’s. In that instant, the Duchess knows what Emma and Killian are about to do. Emma gives her mother a supplicating look, begging her silently for her blessing. The Duchess closes her eyes for a moment, sighs, and gives her a tiny smile and a nod, as a single tear runs down her cheek.

Emma turns back to Killian, intertwines her fingers with his, and pulls him along with her through the crowd toward the farther end of the hall.

“Where is your horse, Killian?”

“In the courtyard.”

As Emma pushes Killian through a door concealed by a huge tapestry, she can hear a commotion breaking out behind them, and confused cries of people shouting her name. Emma closes and bolts the door behind her. She leads Killian silently but surely through a narrow passage with some twists and turns, until it ends abruptly at a locked door.

“Let me,” says Killian, and dispatches the lock with his hook.

“You’ll use your hook for every little thing now, is it?” Emma teases.

They push the door open and step out into the bright courtyard. Emma blinks her eyes to adjust to the light. She turns her head in surprise when a voice calls out her name. Ruby is standing next to a majestic white mare and waving at her. Killian hesitates, but Emma reassures him with a gentle squeeze of hand, and they quickly make their way to Ruby.

Ruby grins at them and hands a stunned Killian the reins of his horse and his broadsword, which she had picked up from the assembly room floor.

Killian thanks her and gets on his horse as Emma wrings her friend’s hand in gratitude.

“Your dashing knight came for you after all,” says Ruby with a smile, and hands Emma another sword. The two friends embrace tightly in farewell. There are both smiles and tears.

Killian helps Emma up the saddle and kicks off. When they reach the castle gate, Killian dispatches a guard with his sword, while Emma fends off another. Killian turns the mare about and reaches out to unlock the gate. They hear someone shouting instructions at the guards to pull up the drawbridge. Killian pushes open the doors of the castle and urges the mare to a gallop. With a leap, the mare clears the drawbridge just as it is beginning to rise. Killian gives the horse an encouraging pat. The drawbridge continues to rise, and Emma laughs as she hears people shouting at the guards to set it back down.  

“Have I told you how bloody brilliant and amazing you are?” says Killian, talking loudly so as to be heard over the sound of the hoof beats.

“Yes, but I don’t mind hearing it again.”

Killian laughs.

Emma turns her head to catch what could well be her last glimpse of the castle. She sees a pack of men on horseback pouring out of the castle gate and warns Killian.

“Fear not, Swan. All is taken care of,” he asserts.

They approach a river that borders the castle. A single ferry boat is tied to the river bank on their side.

“Where are the other boats?”

“Gone,” responds Killian with a smirk.

Killian and Emma dismount, and lead the mare on to the boat. Killian unties it and ferries them across the river to the other bank, while Emma stands by the mare, patting it gently.

Once they reach the other side, they get off the ferry and tie it to a stout pole on the river bank. They get back on the mare and take off once again, riding past rocky coastlines and forests.

After what seems like hours, Killian finally stops by a lake. Emma is sure they have left the chase far behind. They dismount and stretch their legs. The shore is dotted with beautiful wild flowers. Killian leads the mare to the water, and then ties her to a tree with enough slack to graze freely.

Killian and Emma are glad to drink and refresh themselves as well. They make a simple meal out of some bread and fruit that Killian had tucked away in a saddle bag and rest for a while.

Killian picks a wild flower and gives it to Emma.

“Middlemist,” says Emma reverently. This one flower Killian gives her brings her more joy than could a thousand posies of orange blossom. She throws her arms around his neck and kisses him.

Some moments later, Killian disengages himself and apologizes for not writing to Emma in recent months. “I was in a lot of pain the first few weeks after I got injured. When I received your missive informing me of the wedding, I had no thought other than getting to you as fast as I could.”

Emma gently touches Killian’s wrist at the place where the hook is strapped and asks if it hurts.

“Not much now,” Killian reassures her. “The wound is almost completely healed.”

“I was planning to escape from the castle tonight and come find you."

“I never should have left you, Emma. I was foolish and proud, trying to prove my worth with a hero’s journey. And now,” he falters, “I have returned to you as not a whole man.”

Emma takes his hand and hook within her hands. “You are whole, Killian. You are loyal, brave, and kind. I love you, and you’re just the man I want,” she assures him.

“And I love you,” affirms Killian. He kisses her again; the pain and anxiety of their long separation begin to fade away.

And there, in the midst of Middlemist and wild flowers, Killian and Emma exchange vows of everlasting love, and become man and wife.

_Finis_

**Author's Note:**

> *Here are links to some youtube videos showing the Lavolta so you can picture Killian and Emma dancing.  
> youtube dot com /watch?v=AvaGvUoor1E  
> youtube dot com /watch?v=3TTe473IERE
> 
> One of the Round Table knights of Arthurian legend is Sir Bedivere, who had only one hand, having lost the other in battle. He is said to be very handsome, and is the knight who returns Excalibur to the Lady of the Lake.


End file.
